I’m not sure if it’s the weather or maybe because my sons have begun to “smell” themselves, but lately things have been really…intense, at my house. I hate when I have to go 3/4 crazy lady and 1/16th “my mom” (she’s bat shit crazy) on my kids. It hurts me to be upset with them or to feel them being upset with me. I’ve worked so hard to have a good relationship with them that I truly HATE to have to regulate.
My oldest is going to be graduating from high school in June and heading to college next year. My youngest is at the tipping point in life where manhood is quickly approaching and as hard as that may be for the both of them. I am in a complete standstill with my life and not quite sure how to pick up the pieces. So with three different personalities and attitudes, my house is level orange and slowly approaching a code read situation. And I’m not sure how to prevent it.
I guess the first thing I have to do is admit that I am mostly to blame for this. I have spent the majority of their lives trying to give them everything I didn’t have. I needed them to have a home with nice furniture; I wanted them to have the clothes and sneakers that I didn’t get growing up. And no I’m not committing crimes to get these things but I am working HARD to provide them with as much as I can. Somewhere in this process I think they forget that I am not a millionaire.
I’m not looking for a medal. I don’t need Facebook posts about how I’m the greatest to ever do it.
I just need them to do the things for themselves, which will prevent them from making the same mistakes I have.
I’m frustrated that at their ages they seem to not grasp how hard all this is.
I’m not able to give them the world. I’m single. I work a lot. I have responsibilities. But I am trying so HARD to give them everything they need and most of what they want.
So when I get resistance and attitude about what I’m asking from them. It infuriates me.
I’m not perfect. I have made so many mistakes in the process of raising them, I can only pray that when they are old enough to truly understand, that they will take it all in and respect my choices.
This is not the plan I had for us. I wanted to give them so much more. I was NEVER going to be a single mother. I never wanted to have my sons see me with any man other than their father. I wanted to give them a home with the picket fence and the dog. I wanted family vacations and memories that would last them a life time. Not this. Not continuously living from paycheck to support check to second job paycheck. Constantly sacrificing one thing for another or having to explain to them how I can’t give them gifts for Christmas because I only have enough for family. So they are forced to agree to wait, so I can give them my gift cards that I receive as well as getting things after the New Year, sometimes tax season.
And although I know they appreciate the things they have. I don’t feel like they appreciate what I have to do to get them. And maybe they shouldn’t. They didn’t ask to be here. This was a decision that was made by me and their father. We chose to have two children that we were not equipped to raise and I don’t know how you raise MEN. As a woman it is completely idiotic to think I can.
But I am attempting to raise good people. You know the smart ones, who will not want for much in life like they may right now. I am hoping they will be good providers and hopefully great fathers one day. I’m trying to make sure my Sons are successful. That they graduate ON TIME with no drama, jail time or babies. I’m fighting to make sure they are productive and have a better life then I’ve lived. One I’ve tried to protect them from.
I never even thought about what happens if we didn’t work out as a family. Could I depend on him? How often would he be there? How much would he participate in their lives? Unfortunately more times than I would like to admit, that answer has been no. But I’ve been here every day, for every bruise, fever, stomach bug, every x-ray, E.R. visit or school meeting. You don’t get extra credit for that! It’s just a part of the job.
So when I look at them and see the anger and the frustration in their faces, I feel like a failure. And as mad as it makes me, as much as it hurts, I just wish I can show them their future. The one I see in them. Maybe then they will understand why I go so hard. Why I push so much. Why I be on the “psycho” setting when things aren’t getting done.
And maybe then they will get it. Then they will see how hard this is but also that it has been worth it. I LOVE being their mom. If there was NEVER anything that I accomplished in life, I’m ok with that, just because I had them. And it breaks me when they don’t see the hell I walk through daily, until I realize they are not suppose too. I’m here to guide them, teach them and love them. That’s all.
So I’m learning to not hold on to the hurt when I have to punish them or yell. To not hide in my room and cry when I can see the hatred in their eyes because my answer was no and not the yes they were searching for. I’m not trying to be the perfect parent here. No applauds are needed, no roses thrown at my feet. I’m just trying to be successful at being their mother.